


Slow Sunday

by Nen (Nenchen)



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Anal Sex, Aziraphale Has a Penis (Good Omens), Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), But only a bit, Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Edgeplay, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Kissing, Lazy Mornings, Lazy Sex, Love, Lube, M/M, Morning Cuddles, Morning Kisses, Morning Sex, Neck Kissing, Nudity, Overstimulation, Soft Aziraphale (Good Omens), Strong Aziraphale (Good Omens), combined with the rest, soft, wrist kisses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-14
Updated: 2020-09-14
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:14:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26459290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nenchen/pseuds/Nen
Summary: Aziraphale and Crowley decide to stay in bed just a little longer.This fic is mostly just soft, slow sex and features some overstimulation because of that. It's filled with love and softness and has cuddling after.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 16
Kudos: 98





	Slow Sunday

**Author's Note:**

  * For [VirtualCarrot (Kaoro)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaoro/gifts).



> Another one for Carrot, for screaming in the NSFW chat that we only have cursed content.

The morning light filters through the threadbare curtains in Aziraphale’s flat over the bookshop, illuminating a bed with a sleeping demon in it. The sunlight flows over his face, over his bare chest, his calves and the rest of his body that is barely covered by the blanket. It also illuminates the figure of the angel standing in front of a big mirror and getting dressed. Buttoning his shirt, unhurried and methodical, up to the collar, adding his bowtie with practiced, precise movements. When he moves on to button the cuffs, a hand around his wrist stops him. 

“Good morning,” the demon says, voice still thick with sleep but eyes wide awake, raking over Aziraphale’s form in the mirror. “Let me.”

He sneaks his other arm around the angel, effectively hugging him from behind. Leaning to the side a bit, he brings the angel’s hand up to his face to place a delicate kiss just underneath the cuffs, on the wrist, before buttoning it and doing the same on the other side. 

“Good morning,” Aziraphale says, voice suddenly breathless. 

He turns in the demon’s relaxed hold, wrapping his own arms around him, giving his demon a proper good morning kiss that soon turns improper as both of them are moving towards the bed.

Crowley inhales sharply when the back of his legs hit the bedframe, eyes wide and unfocused.

“Angel. What do you want?“

“I think I want to enjoy my Sunday morning with a lie in,” Aziraphale answers, moving away from Crowley a bit to climb onto the bed. “Would you care to join me?”

“Always and in everything,” Crowley answers, already following, and the sincerity of his words make Aziraphale’s chest ache.

Their mouths meet again, both of them kneeling on the bed, resuming to the lazy kisses from before with an undercurrent of desire, but still slow, gentle. Crowley’s hands are deftly undoing the bowtie and the first few buttons of the shirt. Throwing the bowtie over his shoulder without looking, he makes sure it lands perfectly on the dresser, eliciting a delighted laugh from Aziraphale. And another delighted sound when Crowley moves away from his mouth. 

He kisses along his jawline and then further down his neck, making good use of the loosened collar. His hands are exploring the broad planes of Aziraphale’s torso, bunching up the fabric to grant him better access. Aziraphale meanwhile is doing much the same, hands moving along Crowley’s back, teasing over the sensitive point where his wings would be connected. That earns him a shuddering groan and Crowley bends forward, bracing himself against the angel. He moves on, down his back caressing his hips and massaging along his thighs. Crowley reciprocates by bunching up the shirt even further until he has access to the angel’s chest and can kiss and suck on his nipples until he is moaning, loud and unabashed.

They are moving against each other, languidly, indulgently. It’s Sunday, and with the shop not open and them having no prior arrangements, they can take however long they fancy. They can just enjoy themselves, enjoy their time together as long as they want, luxuriously draw out kisses and touches.

Soon enough, Crowley starts to become a bit more frantic in his touches, a bit bolder in his kisses.

“Would you turn around for me, my love?” Aziraphale asks him in a voice too deliberately gentle to not be taken as a demand by the demon.

His eyes snap up to Aziraphale’s face, searching. The angel smiles.

“Please, indulge me.”

Crowley turns without protest, pliant, obedient, and is rewarded by Aziraphale’s arms coming around him, pinning him to his broad, soft chest. They fit perfectly against each other like this. The angel is trailing kisses along his neck and shoulders, while lazily rutting against him, moving with delicious, purposeful pressure against Crowley’s butt. The demon’s eyes close, loosing himself to this wonderful friction.

They stay like this for a while, leisurely enjoying the movement of their bodies against each other, the warmth of it, the sweet slow build of pleasure. Until Crowley can’t take it anymore, the steady motion just not enough anymore and he tries to move against the angel, to speed up things. But the angel’s hold on him is too secure. Crowley wants desperately to breach it, to gain friction, more contact, but being held like this also feels so good, so secure and warm and he couldn’t bear it to stop. 

So, he only squirms a bit and gives up. The pace stays the same, maddeningly slow, just enough to drive him to distraction but not even close to completion. Crowley is a mess already, from nothing but a bit of frottage. He can’t bear it any longer, begging his angel to give him more. He can feel the smile against his neck and the miracle that has them both prepared. And then he feels the amazing, wonderful, perfect stretch of the angel breaching him and he’s sobbing, incoherent pieces of words and garbled praise escaping his mouth as the angel moves inside him, deeper and deeper, and then out again. 

The pace, however, stays exactly the same, and now the maddeningly slow drag is inside him, occasionally nudging his prostate. And he still can’t move, he can’t do anything except feel it all, feel the kisses and morning sun on his skin, the occasional brush of the angel’s fingers over his nipples, the movement of that broad chest behind him, the heartbeat thrumming underneath. Feel his insides twist in the most delicious way, and it’s been going on for what feels like a small eternity, torment and pleasure making the time twist in his brain, but the angel still has him cradled safely against his chest like something unimaginably precious. He is whispering into Crowley’s ear, compliments and encouragement and praise, while Crowley can barely form a coherent thought, not to mention words.

Finally, he manages to choke out a single word.

“Please.”

The angel obliges, indulging him by shifting the way their bodies fit against each other, changing the angle of how he moves inside. Now he is brushing against his prostate with every thrust, unbearably slow still, again and again and Crowley is moaning and shaking with it. Gradually, almost unnoticeable the pace picks up and Crowley can’t do anything to encourage it but moan, almost delirious from pleasure, the slow build of it, coiling and coiling inside of him like a snake.

At last, he feels Aziraphale picking up the pace more, feels his erection pulsing inside, the angel getting close himself and his noises turn higher in pitch, pleading. The angel, of course, understands, one of his hands wandering down to curl around his erection. He doesn’t even need to move and Crowley comes with a shout, wave upon wave of pleasure crashing through his body, making him loose himself in it, drowning him in it. He barely notices the angel’s grip tightening around him, his shudders as he hits his climax as well.

They separate and strong arms turn Crowley around, to gently kiss his mouth again and he moans weakly into it, feeling boneless and sated. With a snap they are clean, and the angel lays them down, cradling Crowley against his chest and dropping kisses in his hair, Crowley himself still too overwhelmed to reciprocate much. 

They spend a good time more like this, curled up against each other in bed, trading lazy kisses for kissing’s sake and talk about everything and nothing, simply enjoying each other’s company and their lazy, indulgent Sunday morning.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to tell me about spelling errors, grammar errors and britpick. If there's something else you can also tell me, but please, be kind about it. Preferably in a private message on tumblr. I usually write in a much more direct and descriptive style so I am not quite sure what to think of this, but I like it anyways.
> 
> Come visit my tumblr at [goodduckingomens](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/goodduckingomens).  
> Comments and Kudos very much motivate me, so please leave some if you had fun! Keysmash comments appreaciated for the true Crowleys out there.


End file.
